


The Land of Mist and Snow

by cmcross



Series: The Creature Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 13:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmcross/pseuds/cmcross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That night, while lying awake in bed, it occurs to Mycroft that the man sleeping two doors down was not born evil. He was a shoddy, patchwork quilt of terrible life experiences, quiet loneliness, and a broken heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Land of Mist and Snow

It would have been so easy to end the pitiful creature lying in the hospital bed. He could have done it, should have done it, but Mycroft was taken in by those wide, dark eyes; guileless, and looking to him for comfort. He would excuse his actions to his superiors later – "A valuable asset." – and they will accept it and so he did not dwell on the potential consequences.

He would later realize they would be numerous and varied.

He takes Jim Moriarty into his home, like a stray dog if you will, with the intention of pulling apart the man's mind, dissecting and examining each action and motive, and cataloguing his vices and virtues (though he expected there to be more of the former than the later).

The mild mannered bookworm sitting in front of his fireplace is not quite the world class criminal he expected.

But he is a Holmes after all, and this new Jim is unexpected, an enigma, so far flung from the devious mastermind he'd encountered before that he can't believe this amnesia is real. So he deduces. He digs and he delves and what he finds…he doesn't know what to make of.

The man before him is frighteningly open. A small kindness will purchase him access to the darkest memories. It makes Mycroft feel dirty to abuse his trust this way, but he has his masters, and he has the names of every person Jim has ever killed (more or less) and he reasons with himself that it is no more than the man deserves.

If only Jim didn't latch himself on to Mycroft the way an abused child latches on to the first person to show them the smallest acts of kindness. The need for approval, for acknowledgement and acceptance, for someone to tell him he is good, plucks at Mycroft's heartstrings and he is reminded of another sad eyed genius he once knew.

Jim tells Mycroft about his parents, ambiguous authority figures, forever shrouded in a heavy mist of disinterest when they were not beating their own failures out of their son. He talks about his twin, Evie, and how she died. How he stood frozen with fear and watched her drown. He talks about being picked on in school; how he was smaller and more effeminate than the other boys. How he liked those boys and wanted to kiss them….how they beat him.

But mostly, he talked about the loneliness. The unbearable, aching loneliness that echoed around him, rebounding off the walls and driving him mad. He spoke of his longing for someone who was like him; someone smart like him, brilliant like him, someone he could talk to, someone who would praise him and not judge him. A companion. A partner. A friend.

That night, while lying awake in bed, it occurs to Mycroft that the man sleeping two doors down was not born evil. He was a shoddy, patchwork quilt of terrible life experiences, quiet loneliness, and a broken heart. Shunned and repudiated by those sworn to protect him and left out in the snow to fend for himself, his quiet brilliance turned into a destructive weapon to hurt those who'd wronged him.

Frankenstein's Creature brought to life.

He feels the rolling emptiness settle in his stomach and resists the urge to dry heave.

_There, but for the grace of God, go I._

In the morning, he walks past Jim on his way to the kitchen, and clasps his shoulder in a friendly gesture. It's the first physical contact he's initiated. He feels Jim stiffen under his hands, then relax and lean in, like a pet starved too long for attention.

He gives his solemn promise that there will be no abandonment here; no frozen starlit chases across the north, no punishment, no ridicule.

"This is a safe place," he says, and he sees a wealth of hope light up behind those black eyes, an aurora borealis lit on fire.

It is truly a glorious sight to behold.


End file.
